Bleed Just To Know You're Alive
by Keeloca
Summary: The Emperor is dead, Darth Vader no more. On Coruscant Obi-Wan struggles to rebuild the Jedi Order, but he is hunted by nightmares he can't remember and a past he wishes to forget. Desperate for answers, he sets out to find the only one who can give them.
1. After The End

**Period:** Post-ROTS.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13.  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Angst, with a bit of humor thrown in for balance. Star Wars is all about balance, after all.  
><strong>Keyword:<strong> Brotherhood, friendship, reconciliation.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> The Emperor is dead, Darth Vader no more. On Coruscant Obi-Wan Kenobi struggles to build the Jedi Order anew, but he is haunted by nightmares he can't remember and a past he wishes he could forget. Desperate for answers and some kind of peace, he sets out to find the only one who might possily offer it - if he is willing.  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Possible mentions of self-injury later on.

...

"Ow!" The Togrutan youth howled in pain as the glowing blade of the training saber raised an angry red welt on her left wrist. Her teeth bared, she lunged forward with her weapon raised to strike at her opponent. "I'll get you for that!"

"No." With a subtle flick of his hand, Obi-Wan used the Force to separate the two combatants by pushing them to either side of the circle painted on the floor. The human boy, who at thirteen was two years older than his fellow Jedi initiate, looked relieved, but the Togrutan glared at Obi-Wan.

"The fight wasn't over yet," she said.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary. It was over. And you lost."

"Because he did this?" She held up her hand for inspection. "Wasn't even my saber hand. I could still have beaten him."

"Perhaps. But you still lost." Seeing her incomprehension, he sighed. "You lost the fight because you lost your temper."

She crossed her arms over her thin chest, her anger now mixed with something akin to contempt. "That's stupid."

"No, young one, that is the Jedi way." He eyed the both youngsters gravely. "Fear, anger, aggression – those are of the Dark Side. A Jedi must be serene, focused. A Jedi must let go of his emotions and listen to the Force."

The boy nodded, but the young female still looked rebellious. "I – " she began, but Obi-Wan interrupted her with a gesture.

"No," he said. "No more arguments. I want you both to go to your rooms and meditate on the Jedi Code." He paused. "We will discuss your thoughts on it tomorrow."

"Yes, master," the boy squealed, then blushed. He had just reached puberty and one could never be sure if his voice would be that of a grown man or a little boy when he spoke. The Togrutan said nothing at all, just marched past Obi-Wan out of the training hall. Looking vaguely embarrassed, the boy followed her after offering a quick bow to the bearded Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan waited until he was quite sure that they were gone, and then he closed his eyes, leaning against the cold wall, allowing himself a rare moment of resignation. Force, he was so tired –

"Rough session?"

He started at the voice. Looking up, he found Quinlan Vos standing in the doorway. "Oh, it's you," Obi-Wan muttered, possibly sounding a tad more testy than he had intended. "Do you really need to cloak your presence in the Temple?"

"Don't like people sneaking up on you? Up to something nefarious in here, were you?"

Obi-Wan straightened from the wall and laughed mirthlessly. "Hardly. I just find it somewhat rude."

"Sorry." Quinlans grin contradicted his statement. "So, was it?"

"What was what?"

"The session. Rough. You look like you've been trampled by a bantha," he added, studying the other with a slight frown on his face. "You haven't been, have you?"

"Not recently, no. And as for the training session, it was… " He hesitated. "I guess you could call it rough."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Haven't you got a wife and son to go home to?" Adjusting his cloak, Obi-Wan headed for the door. Quinlan stepped aside to let him pass, then fell into step with him as they walked down the brightly lit corridor.

"You know Khaleen and I aren't married." Quinlan had been about to leave the order to take care of his soon-to-be-born son when Order 66 was executed. Through luck and skill he had survived, and when the Jedi returned to Coruscant after Palpatine's death he had showed up, offering to help 'sort things out', though he had made it quite clear that he would not leave his child or the mother. Of course, in accordance with the new Jedi policy concerning families, he was not required to. Now Quinlan's eyes narrowed as he gave Obi-Wan a sideway glance. "You don't approve, do you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "About you not being married? Don't be silly, Quin, really, I – "

"Not about the not-married part. About the living together. About Korto. About us, you know, loving each other."

"Does it matter whether I approve of it or not?" Obi-Wan forced his voice to remain light, offering Quinlan a small smile, which the other returned with a shrug.

"I'm not gonna leave her just because you don't like it, no. But… " Again, he hesitated. "You're my friend, Obi-Wan. I would hate to lose you."

"You won't. You wouldn't, even if… attachments were against the rules."

That provoked another wide grin. "Who would have figured Yoda would soften in his old age?"

Obi-Wan shook his head once more. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days. "He has not softened. But he has come to believe that not allowing Jedi to have families was a mistake."

"Yeah. And that, old friend, is what you disapprove of, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan suddenly stopped and spun around to face Quinlan. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper. "I've only known two Jedi to father children while still in the order. And both of them fell, Quinlan. You and – " He didn't finish the sentence, just turned around and started up the stairs leading to the Council chamber.

"Hey," he heard Quinlan call after him. "We both turned back, didn't we?"

...

Obi-Wan woke up with a start, a scream dying on his lips. For a moment he remained motionless on his back. Except for his own shallow breathing not a sound was to be heard in the dark room.

Another nightmare. Or at least he thought so. Why else would his heart beat as were it trying to hammer its way out of his chest? Why else would his forehead be bathed in sweat, and why else would there be tears streaming down his cheeks?

But he couldn't remember his dream. He never could. Every night he would wake up, despair coursing through his body, an icy sensation that tasted of _could have been_ and _too late_. For minutes, he would just lie there, trying to understand what could have cause such a stoic Jedi as himself to wake up in tears.

But he never remembered. Mostly, he was grateful for it.

"Troubled you are, Master Kenobi."

He wanted to deny it. Perhaps if he denied it fiercely enough, it would no longer be true. _Our focus determines our reality_, that was what Qui-Gon had told him over and over again, a lifetime ago. If it was so, shouldn't he be able to focus on the training of new apprentices and on the restoration of the decimated Jedi Order? Focus on that, only that, and all the rest – the nightmares and the memories, his guilt and his grief – would simply… cease to be.

If only.

Obi-Wan turned away from the window to face the ancient Master perched on a padded stool. "Yes, Master Yoda. I believe I am."

Yoda said nothing, simply gazed at him with yellow eyes, old and wise and unreadable. There was a long pause before Obi-Wan spoke again. "I realize that I am needed here, Master. So few of us remain, and there are younglings to be trained, and the Senate to support, and everywhere in our war ravaged galaxy planets and civilizations cry out for Jedi's aid… I know this. I know my duty." He fell silent again, unsure of how to phrase his request, explain it so that the Grand Master might understand. Might respect it. Might grant it.

Yoda sighed heavily, tapping his cane against the floor. "Your duty, it is here. To the Order. To the Republic. Know this, you do. Know that know this you do, I do. Always mindful of your duty, have you been, Obi-Wan. And yet... leave us, you would?"

"Only for a short while… "

"How long a short while is? A day, a week, a month?" _Tap, tap, tap_, went the cane against the tiled floor.

"I don't know," he was forced to admit. "But, Master, I… " He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. _I am not fit to be a teacher_, he might have said. _Perhaps not even to be a Jedi, not anymore. I am confused. I am angry. I am tired._

I don't know what I am. And how can someone so lost serve as a guide to others?

But those were not the words his training had prepared him to utter. "I am sorry for bothering you, Master Yoda. I shall return to my duties."

He had already bowed and turned to leave, when Yoda called out. "Master Kenobi!" The diminutive Jedi had hopped down from his stool, and walked up to his younger colleague. "A wise man, you are. A great Jedi. Trust in your judgment I do, though trust yourself you do not. If you say that need to leave you do, trust in that I will."

Obi-Wan blinked. "I… Thank you, Master." He bowed again.

"Sure are you that do this you want to?" A hint of warning had crept into the old Master's voice. "What you find… what you look for, it might not be."

"I know. As for what I want… " He shrugged helplessly. "I need to do this."

Yoda nodded. "Very well. Then go, Master Kenobi. Go, so that return you might."

...

Obi-Wan told no one of his leaving, but he went to see the children before he left. At only fourteen months, they were still living in the crèche with the very youngest of the initiates. As Obi-Wan paused in the hallway outside of the dayroom, he could hear brother and sister talking in a strange and high-pitched language known only to the two of them.

He did not enter, but stayed in the hallway. Through the open door he could see Leia stumble around the room with a pink bantha clutched to her chest. Luke was sitting on the floor, waving his arms around excitedly, obviously explaining something very important to his twin sister. Golden sunlight fell through the large windows, shimmered in Luke's ruffled hair, was reflected in Leia's brown eyes.

Obi-Wan watched them for another moment, both endlessly comforted and heartbreakingly saddened by their innocence and simple happiness. _I never knew Anakin to be this innocent. This happy. Never knew him to be a child._

But I'll tell him of you,

he silently vowed. _I'll tell him of your beauty and your light, and how your laugh sounds just like his must have done, Luke. Leia, I'll let him know that you have his chin and his nose._

_I'll tell him when I find him._

_...  
><em>

TBC


	2. The Long and Winding Road

_Where will you look for him?_A question Yoda had not posed, and that was just as well, because Obi-Wan would not have been able to answer it. From his former apprentice there had been no word, no sign of life, not for fourteen months. When last they met, on the fiery hell that was Mustafar, they had not met as friends.

Though he would rather not, Obi-Wan remembered:

_Whoever this man was, he could not be Anakin. Anakin's eyes were blue, not yellow, not red. Anakin burned bright like supernova in the Force; he did not suck the light away as a black hole would. Anakin would rather die than hurt Padmé; would rather die than betray Obi-Wan. And since that was Padmé's unconscious form on the ground, and since this was Obi-Wan was fighting for his life, the creature wearing Anakin's face and wielding Anakin's blade could not be Anakin. Could not be his brother._

Yet, Obi-Wan pleaded with him: "Anakin, the Chancellor is evil!"

Bared teeth in a feral, furious snarl. "From my point of view the Jedi are evil!"

Then you are lost, _Obi-Wan thought, and would have said it aloud had he not been interrupted –_

"Anakin… "

The single whisper, pained and weak, was enough to do what all of Obi-Wan's desperate attempts at reasoning had not; it gave the man who was not Anakin pause. Lowering his blade just a fraction, he glanced towards the woman trying to get herself into a sitting position on the ground. "Padmé… "

Obi-Wan did not hesitate. He lunged, raising his blade high for a blow that would take not-Anakin's arm. But the other looked up, managed to dodge, and then something very hard slammed into the side of Obi-Wan's head and all went dark – 

... 

When he woke up he was alone. Anakin was gone and so was Padmé, her ship and the two droids. Fighting against the sickening pain in his head, Obi-Wan got to his feet. His lightsaber lay on the ground just a few meters away. Unsteadily, he picked it up and stumblingly made his way toward Anakin's star fighter. It was not until he reached it that he realized that without an astromech he would not be able to pilot it.

Exhausted he sat down on the ground, leaning back against a convenient rock. He closed his eyes and let himself drift away.

When next he awoke, it was inside a bacta tank on a barren planetoid called Polis Massa. Concerned, Bail and Yoda had decided to come looking for him when he had not made it to the rendezvous point. This he was told later; of his rescue he remembered nothing.

It was there on Polis Massa they learned, shockingly, that Palpatine had been killed and proof of his treachery released to the press. Wary of another trick like the Temple beacon calling all Jedi back to Coruscant, the three of them had covertly made their way to the capitol, only to find that it was true. Palpatine's reign of terror was over almost before it begun and the Senate was falling over itself in its feverish disavowal of 'the Emperor', decrying his 'terrible massacre of our noble Jedi Knights'.

And in the deserted Temple, someone had left a pair of infants, a boy and a girl, in the care of two droids. "Their names are Luke and Leia, Master Kenobi," Threepio told him. Obi-Wan had not replied, merely reached out to gently touch the babies' tiny faces. He was too numb to weep.

It was another two days before Bail sent word that Padmé's body had been delivered to her family on Naboo. "I'm sorry," Anakin had told them, and her parents had assumed that he meant sorry for their loss.

That was the last anyone heard of Anakin Skywalker.

And here he was now, Obi-Wan Kenobi, alone in his cockpit, staring out into the black expanse of cold space. Such a vast place, the galaxy. Worlds without number, stars beyond counting. To find someone here who did not want to be found…

But the Force was Obi-Wan's ally, and a powerful ally it was. He closed his eyes, relaxed, reaching out and drawing inside at the same time. He imagined that he could hear Qui-Gon's voice: _Let go of your conscious self. Let go of your desires and your fears. Let the Force flow through you. Be one with the Force. Be one - _

How long he stayed in his trance he could not say, but when he opened his eyes again he opened them to the nauseating swirl of light that was hyperspace. Glancing down at the navi computer, he was momentarily startled. Not by the fact that he must have fed to it the co-ordinates while still deep in trance, but by the planned destination. _I did not expect him to ever want to return here._

_Then again, there was much I never expected him to do._

... 

The Force had led him to the planet; he had to guess at the more exact location. Still, Obi-Wan did not hesitate for long, and as he made his way from the ship into Mos Espa he was glad that he had not accompanied Qui-Gon on his search for spare parts all those years ago. The irony of the situation was cruel enough as it was without him recognizing every hovel and dusty shop he passed.

He could not sense Anakin's presence, and he did not dare reach out with the Force either, for fear of alerting the other to his coming. It seemed he would have to rely on less esoteric means to find his… what? Friend? Foe?

Brother?

_What you find… what you look for, it might not be. _Yoda's words, echoing in his mind.

Obi-Wan sighed. Part of him already wished he had not come.

The small room was even sparser than Obi-Wan's own austere quarters on Coruscant. A bed, a rickety table, a simple chair and a large electric fan, nothing more. But it was clean, and it was cheap, and the small window high up under the roof let the bright red light of the desert sunset fall on the wall.

The street in front of the hotel was a busy one, but Obi-Wan's room faced the backyard, and it was blessedly quiet there. Weary after his trip and seeing little point in staying up, he undressed and slipped in under the thin blanket. Tomorrow he would begin his search in earnest.

Sleep was a long time coming.

"Last call for bets! Place your bets here! Last call!"

"Get the autographs of your favorite racers! A hundred percent authentic!"

"Bantha skewers! Mister, you wanna buy some bantha skewers?" The Rodian stepped in front of Obi-Wan and waved a juice-dripping skewer under the Jedi's nose. It smelled rather nice, but he had not come here for the food.

"Thank you, no," he said politely. The Rodian shrugged and turned away in search of other potential customers. He did not have to look far; while not as long, dangerous or prestigious as the Boonta Eve Classic, Mos Espa Open still managed to attract a sizeable crowd, and the Grand Arena was bustling with frantic activity as spectators competed for the best seats.

The race in itself held little interest for Obi-Wan though, and he carefully made his way through crowd towards the large hangar where the pods and racers would be tended to by their crews. If Anakin was here, that would be the most likely place to find him. Or so Obi-Wan hoped.

After a week spent in search of his former Padawan, he was growing frustrated in a way most uncharacteristic of him. Patience had not always been his strongest virtue – as Qui-Gon had liked to point out – but as he had matured into a man and a Jedi, he had learned to accept that things would happen in their own time, and that little could be gained by trying to rush them. There was peace in such an acceptance, and it was a peace he sorely missed these dreary days of restlessly wandering the streets of Mos Espa, looking for a man he was not even sure he wanted to find.

He had made his way to Tatooine with such ease; he should have known that the rest of the road would be harder. Unwilling as he was to use the Force, he had to rely on old-fashioned investigation techniques, and unfortunately such techniques proved difficult to implement when he had neither name nor picture nor anything else to go on. He had to assume that Anakin was using an alias and concealing his appearance – even on a Force-forsaken backwater planet like Tatooine, the Hero With No Fear would not go unrecognized.

Neither would the Negotiator, and so Obi-Wan kept his hood up at all times. So far, no one had guessed at his true identity.

"Hey, you! Where do you think you're going?" As he was about to enter the hangar, a massively fat Twi'lek female blocked his path, pointing at him with a smoking pipe. "You have a pass? Only crew members are allowed in here before the race."

Obi-Wan hesitated. His first instinct was to use a mind trick, but if Anakin actually was in the hangar he would undoubtedly sense that. "I'm not a crew member," he told the Twi'lek. "But I have a very important message to Racho Slan." Seeing her suspiciously narrowed eyes, he quickly added in a conspiratorial whisper, "It is from Jabba himself."

"I didn't know Jabba would attend this race."

"Oh, he will not. But he has a… certain interest in the outcome that he would like to communicate to Slan." He hoped that sounded fishy enough for her to believe in it. When she still did not look convinced, he pulled a couple of local coins out of his pocket. "Jabba will be most grateful for your kind assistance," he murmured, pressing the coins into the Twi'lek's hand.

For a moment he thought she would refuse him entrance, but then she shrugged and stepped aside to let him pass. "Give him the damn message, then. But," she called after Obi-Wan as he made his way through the enormous doors, "if there's any sabotage or other funny business I'll come looking for you, don't think that I won't!"

Obi-Wan forgot her as soon the doors had closed behind him. Eagerly, he scanned the hangar, let his eyes wander over mechanics and aids and racers –

He was not there.

Disappointment churned in his stomach, oddly complemented by a tiny surge of relief. He slowly made his way around the place, stepping over pit droids and thick cables, wanting to make absolutely sure that Anakin was not there. He had had such a good feeling about coming to the race…

_Can he have sensed my arrival and left town? _

Well, it was certainly possible, but he did not believe it. Anakin was here, in Mos Espa, and somehow Obi-Wan _would_find him.

Somehow.

As he turned to leave, he stepped on a hydrospanner carelessly left on the floor, lost his balance, and narrowly missed crashing into one of the pods.

"Watch it!" cried a thin voice, and out from under the pod scuttled a Xamster dressed in blue coveralls. "What the hell you doin'? You crazy? You spy? You come here to break my racer? What?" His pointed ears twitched nervously.

"My apologies," Obi-Wan said, righting himself. "I stumbled."

"Stumled? You don't watch where you going? Huh? You come here to break my racer? Maz sent you? Maz sent you, didn't she?"

Obi-Wan wondered fleetingly if the agitation was normal to the species, spice-induced or fuelled by nervousness of the up-coming race. He made a placating gesture. "No one sent me. I was looking for… a friend."

"Uhn." The racer stared hard at the Jedi for a moment before visibly relaxing. "Friend. Okay. No harm." As if embarrassed by his suspiciousness, he shrugged. "My racer is very special. First time I fly her today. Lots of people wanna break it, ruin my race." He nodded empathically and slapped the side of the pod. "Very special."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Had the engine made special. This mechanic guy, he says she's the fastest pod ever made." The Xamster shook his head in what appeared to be disbelieving awe. "This human, he's a genius. He fixes everything, makes everything better. He built the engine himself from scratch. The fastest pod ever made."

Obi-Wan had become very still. He did not reach for the Force; he did not need to. A tingling sensation worked its way down his spine, and he _knew_. When he spoke his voice seemed to come from far away. "Where can I find this man?"

He almost walked away. Standing outside of the derelict building, staring at the non-descript door pointed out to him by a helpful urchin, he almost turned around and walked away. _I don't have to do this. I can still go back to Coruscant, back to my duties, and forget all of this. _

Yoda's voice again: _What you find… what you look for, it might not be. _

Obi-Wan opened the door and walked in without knocking.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the street's glaring sunlight to relative dark of the windowless room he entered. It was small, its walls lined with working benches and shelves, the floor cluttered with pieces of machinery. A couple of red chairs had been placed in one corner.

Obi-Wan hardly registered it. All of his senses, all of his being, were focused on the man on the far side of the workshop. He had been crouching on the floor with his back turned towards the door, but as it opened he had risen, and now he was facing Obi-Wan. A tall man, dressed in gray, his face hidden in a poncho's deep cowl.

With detached curiosity, Obi-Wan noted that the urge to hug him was as strong as the urge to hit him.

Slowly he raised his hands to lower his hood. "Hello, Anakin."

TBC


	3. The First to Break

At first the tall man made no reply. Turning slightly, he put down the wrench he had been holding on the bench behind him. Then, once more facing Obi-Wan, he removed his poncho, carelessly dropping it on the floor.

_He's too thin_, Obi-Wan thought. And: _His eyes are blue._

"I expected you sooner." Anakin's voice was rough, as had it gone unused for a some time. There was a flat quality to it, a lack of emotion matched by the emptiness in his eyes.

Obi-Wan swallowed. "Well. If you wanted visitors you might have left us with an address." He was surprised to hear how calm he sounded.

"I knew you'd find your way here, should you want to." Anakin paused, looking down at the disassembled piece of machinery he had been working on when Obi-Wan entered. "It's a portable cooler," he explained. "The customer has a small food stall in the Southern market, and now the engine's busted. I promised I'd have it fixed by tomorrow noon. Any chance of you putting off killing me until then?"

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. "Killing you?"

Anakin had raised his head again, and in his face Obi-Wan could detect no wariness, no fear… not even any real interest. "Isn't that why you came?"

_Is it? _"And what if I have? Come tomorrow noon you will meekly kneel down to let me behead you?"

"Sure."

This was wrong. This was completely and utterly _wrong. _

Standing so close Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's presence in the Force, but it was a muted presence, closed off and shielded. It was as if Anakin had withdrawn as much as he possibly could from the Force, had made himself small and quiet, nigh on invisible. He was there… yet he was not.

Unbearable, this feeling of looking at a face he knew better than his own and not recognizing the person wearing it. _Even the yellow-eyed Sith on Mustafar had more of Anakin in him. _The thought caught him completely by surprise, and the taste of it was very, very bitter.

Obi-Wan spun around and walked out the door.

When he returned night had fallen, and the alley outside of the small workshop was cloaked in darkness. The irregularly blinking lamp mounted high up on one of the sanded walls did little to disperse the shadows.

Anakin was bent over one of the benches, carefully untangling a mass of thin wires. He did not look up from his work as Obi-Wan entered. "You're early."

"I am not here to kill you."

A pause. "Why then?"

"I want answers."

"Sorry. I'm fresh out of those."

Obi-Wan smiled thinly. "Well, you had best find some. I'm not leaving without them."

"You might be in for a long wait. Better get comfortable."

"Oh, I plan to." Anakin must have detected the faint trace of amusement in his voice because at this he actually stirred from the wires and glanced at the Jedi –

The look of surprise in his eyes lasted less than a split second before it faded back into blank stillness, yet Obi-Wan felt his smile widen into something quite close to a grin. _Still capable of emotions, then._ It was somewhat ironic that he should find that so very pleasing; Force knew that he had spent years and years wishing that Anakin would learn to be _less_emotional.

"You plan to stay here?" Anakin's voice was carefully neutral as he gestured toward the bag in Obi-Wan's hand and the rolled up foam mat under his arm.

"That is the idea. Yes."

... 

Having stormed out of Anakin's workshop, Obi-Wan had found his way to a small café where the tables were clean and the staff politely quiet. He had spent the first hour and three cups of caf simply calming down; the next two hours and two tall glasses of water he had carefully examined the situation and his own feelings.

Well. Attempted to examine them.

Why _had_he come to find his former Padawan? It was not to kill him; he was at least fairly certain of that.

_I need to know what happened. To him. To us. I need to understand. Then maybe I can leave the past behind and move on with my life. _

But the man he had encountered amongst tools and machinery earlier that day had been so far removed from the Anakin he knew. This man was a stranger, and Obi-Wan had no idea of how to even begin to approach him. How to talk to him.

How to get him to talk.

"Another glass of water, sir?" He was startled by the human waitress' voice. Lost in thoughts, he had not noticed her approach. _Sloppy, Kenobi. Very sloppy. _

He forced a smile. "No, thank you."

As she moved away to the next table, Obi-Wan drained the glass in front of him and rose. This was getting him nowhere. Years ago, on a mission to Corellia, he and Anakin had found themselves caught in an intricate tangle of lies, half-lies and misunderstandings, leaving the very purpose of the mission in doubt. It had proved very frustrating to his young apprentice. "Nothing makes sense," he had complained. "We don't know anything, because everything we knew is either wrong or means something else than we thought it did. We don't know what to do."

"And so we wait," Obi-Wan had told him with a patient smile. "We stay here, and we watch, and we wait."

Anakin had not looked convinced. "Wait for what?"

"For our path to clear. Today the waters are murky; tomorrow they might be otherwise. In the meantime we will trust in the Force – and learn whatever there is to learn about the situation at hand, of course."

Perhaps it was time he followed his own advice.

... 

He headed back to the hotel and picked up the small bag he had brought with him to Tatooine. It was the same bag he had carried with him from planet to planet throughout the Clone Wars, containing the same things: a change of clothes, a data pad, extra rations, and a med kit. Some loose credits. It was not much, but it was all he needed.

_Almost_all he needed. Very much doubting that Anakin would have a guest bed tucked away somewhere in his hovel, Obi-Wan stopped by one of the larger stores and bought a mattress, a blanket and a pillow. As an afterthought, he added some flatbread and pally fruits, two large bottles of water, instant caf and a few cans of tinned meat to his cart. It seemed rude to invade someone's home without bringing his own provisions.

_Even if the 'someone' in this case is my best friend turned murderous Sith lord turned… whatever._

... 

"I assume I will find your private chambers through that door?" Obi-Wan indicated something that was not, in all earnestness, really a door but merely an opening in the wall covered by a curtain of faded red fabric. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed the curtain aside and stepped in.

'Private chambers' turned out to be an almost comical exaggeration. It was one single room, not even half the size of the workshop. A plastisteel board jutting out from the wall with a chair next to it obviously served as a table. Along the far side of the room a pallet was made up, seemingly of two single blankets. There was no cooking unit, only a small cupboard inserted into the wall above the 'table'. What Obi-Wan first took to be a wardrobe turned out to be the tiniest 'fresher unit he had ever seen outside of a space ship.

"I love what you've done with the place," he murmured. Anakin, who had followed him into the room, made no reply. Though once more perfectly quiet in the Force, Obi-Wan could tell that his one-time apprentice was more than a little bemused by this sudden turn of events. It was probably not proper for a Jedi Master to find such satisfaction in that; Obi-Wan made a mental note to meditate on it later.

Now he gave Anakin a casual glance, before putting his bag on the table and opening it. "Don't let me keep you from your work," he said lightly. "I'll make myself at home."

Still no reply. When he turned around, Anakin had left the room on soundless feet.

... 

He surprised himself by falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the newly bought pillow. His rest was sound and dreamless, and when he woke up it was to the sounds of Anakin hammering away on a piece of metal, not to his own choked screams.

... 

TBC

AN: Hey, you guys! Thanks to those of you who have taken the time to comment on the story. It really means a lot! And for those of you who have added the story to your story alert or favourite lists... small comment just to let me know what you like about the fic? Feed the author's ego? It's a mighty hungry ego, after all... :p


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